


Untold Feelings

by softsumu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Painful Sex, Post-Time Skip, Rope Bondage, Semi-Public Sex, Sub Miya Atsumu, Teammates with Benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 16,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28893765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsumu/pseuds/softsumu
Summary: Vulnerable and needy, blushing from being on display for such degrading eyes, Atsumu was a pretty sight. Sakusa held back his laughter. His gaze, his voice, his actions, everything beyond his lewd plays and sadistic inclinations seemed animated by a repressed disgust, or perhaps an unspoken hatred towards his submissive. It was like his purpose was purely to show this man, who reeked of arrogance and pride, what shame and fear truly were.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

Atsumu never thought he would end up, someday, trapped in such a crappy situation.

The faded rose Sakusa had bought and put on the nightstand earlier released her last breath. Petals, falling from her core melancholically, swayed in a drunken waltz as the moon casted her shadowed light of silver upon their craving bodies. It was something of a romantic, almost theatrical atmosphere, that nicely complemented the little moment of intimacy the two young people were sharing tonight. Any stranger would've told that the curse of an unwise love hung upon their young hearts, because the deceitful gentleness of their kisses could have fooled anyone. It looked like a striking love — but it was just as brief and ephemeral as a breath.

"Sweetheart," resonated a velvety tone through the stifling air of the bedroom. "Are you ready for tonight?"

Atsumu shuddered. Sakusa's words might have been a mere quiet, breathless whisper, but each of his sultry words felt like a raging storm to the other man's brittle heart. Sakusa watched his submissive struggle with his own fear relentlessly, eyes unreadable, lips curled.

Actually enjoying that erotic show pretty well.

Atsumu never wanted to end up here for the seventh time, blindfolded and tied up on Sakusa's bed. Playing such a role in his dominant's lustful games was a reluctance, a shame, an untold fantasy. And yet, the curve of his _awfully_ horny manhood — trapped in between Sakusa's punitive thighs spreader bar, still, stuck and beautiful — said utterly otherwise. Adrenaline soaked through his veins like a sweet shot of venom, and left him craving for his own sins. His poor attempt to protest broke in a cry.

"Now let's begin, shall we?"

Impatience leaked from Sakusa's fierce tone. He was merciless. A little sadist. He wanted to see his submissive writhe in pain and pleasure, scream for his touch, beg for his attention. Vulnerable and needy, blushing from being on display for such degrading eyes, Atsumu was a pretty sight. Impassive and unbending, Sakusa spanked the cheeks of his ass wildly, leaving his soft skin burnt and sore. A moan slipped in between Atsumu's swollen lips, melodious and broken. He tugged at the leather ropes that maintained his wrists and ankles bonded firmly, even aware that all of his naive attempts to shed the weight of his dominant's stare were out of despair, even a little aimless. Sakusa was cruel. His gaze, his voice, his actions, everything beyond his lewd plays and sadistic inclinations seemed animated by a repressed disgust, or perhaps an unspoken hatred towards his submissive. It was like his purpose was purely to show this man, who reeked of arrogance and pride, what shame and _fear_ truly were.

"Why squirming so much?" dryly asked Sakusa. "You don't think I'll let you go, do you?"

A necktie had been tied around Atsumu's head, partly to prevent him from seeing Sakusa's expressions, mainly because of the delicious thrill of not knowing what was going to happen to him. Perhaps it was just a trick of the fear, but he was sure that a mere peek in Sakusa's deep black gaze, drawn and painted in inky thoughts of the devil, would seal his fate for eternity. The sound of another smack reverberated around the walls of the god forbidden playroom, ringing in Atsumu's ears like the laughter of a demon. A cry left his throat. Sakusa repressed a grin. Strands of black and curly hair fell on his damp forehead, almost hiding the dark flame of hatred that burned beneath his midnight eyes. He was beautiful above the older man, cold and insensitive, corrupted and pitiless, and if it was for this mere, yet undeniably bewitching sight, anyone would've been ready to bear his hundreds of tortures and punishments.

Sakusa was a bit like a rose. A spring creature, whose venomous charms wouldn't hesitate to seize your body in between their alluring thorns, dig their sharp teeth into your flesh, and bite your poor soul to death. Atsumu often wondered, between two sobs and shivers, how could he have let the roots of his pretty flowers wrap around his nude figure and drag him into such a promiscuous game. Two, three, four new smacks raged against his thighs. It hurt like hell.

But God knows how he loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading the first chapter ! 
> 
> [wattpad version](https://www.wattpad.com/story/233182435-%E3%80%8C-untold-feelings-%E3%80%8D%E2%94%81%E2%94%81%E2%94%81-sakuatsu)


	2. Chapter 2

Anyone's jaw would have dropped before their sins.

  
The young man sighed, mewled and quivered when the leather whip smacked his soft flesh, and his muscles twitched as a warm tongue slid all the way up his chest, collarbone and neck — drawing each muscle of his godlike body with a singular fervour that reminded him of an erotic painter. His voice cracked in a silent cry, but slender fingers had already begun to thrust from the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat, playfully choking back his pointless prayers and supplications.

"My, why so shy?" chuckled Sakusa cruelly at the sight of his frightened submissive. "Let me hear your sweet voice, angel."

A strong shot of adrenaline ran through Atsumu's bloodstream, burning him deep to the core of his heart as his breath got completely restricted. It all felt like his body was swaying in between the god of death's fingers endlessly, and in the steam of what felt like his last instants, the young man had never felt life so close to leave him. Sakusa's lethal thorns scratched his skin from the inside. His air flow got freed. He was out of breath, and wondered when would his demons be finally tired of tricking his tortured mind.

Probably never.

"A-ah, Master..."

Atsumu arched his back in a beautiful, erotic curve, and rested his head against the wall to take a breath. The cheeks of his ass grew red and swollen from the previous spanks his dominant's severe leather belt had given him. It was pretty, almost picturesque. When you contemplated his ivory skin, — covered in red strings of blood and pain, burning and shivering under the kiss of soft fingertips — you would've sworn that an angel had fallen straight from the heavenly skies before your mortal eyes. He could've been a celestial creature, if the Underworld hadn't painted his own darkest pleasures all over his facade without an ounce of pity.

"You're awfully hard for someone who hasn't even been touched yet," taunted Sakusa. He seized him by the chin. "Tell me what you want, my dirty little whore."

Atsumu wasn't exactly sure of what he wanted. But despite his prideful reluctance and disgust towards the act of submission, he knew that he would have to beg for whatever it was, and being thrown in the arms of a coldblooded man, who had the power of doing whatever he wanted with his body, somehow seemed not so displeasing anymore. The hard smacks and tongue foreplay were slowly getting his throbbing cock leaking creamy fluids on the satiny sheets, aching to be released. He craved for more of his dominant's touch like it was a drug.

And he was an addict who didn't know how to quit.

"Ah, please— Master, I need t'cum!" complained Atsumu, hiding his eagerness behind whimpers and moans.

Sakusa trailed sweet kisses on the tender skin of his inner thighs. A childish hum of delight slipped past his clever lips. He was getting exactly what he wanted since the night had begun. Having his submissive begging and crying for his touch felt like a victory, like he had control over everything. He was powerful, above everything, gaze burning with lust as he studied each mere part of his nude figure. He loved Atsumu's body. He loved to take his dainty waist in his hands, to draw the feminine shape of his milky thighs, or to observe that little sway in his hips anytime he walked past. His gait was a drunk, youthful and devilish waltz, that had the power to drag Sakusa into endless games of admiration. Oh ! He was going insane.

The younger man wrapped his ungodly fingers around his submissive's aching member, drawing each vein of his ridged cock beautifully. Atsumu sobbed, trembled, sighed, and forgot that he had to breathe when the playful hand began to pump his dick up and down, spreading precome all over his length, picking up a godly speed.

It was sinful, kinky night ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

Sakusa smirked at the million dollar sight.

Guilt and humiliation ignited Atsumu's desires, and carved a searing heat into the core of his bones as the feeling of his dominant's divine palm consumed his insides like a wild flame. It had been barely two minutes, and yet he had already stumbled over his limit.

"Oh God, I'm gonna— Faster!"

"Shut the fuck up," growled the ravenette, "Or we do this ten more times."

There was a ringing in Atsumu's ears. A threat in Sakusa's mouth was the most arousing sound he'd ever heard. The dispassionate, yet voluptuous tone of his voice was enough to send a series of shivers underneath his skin, straight to his dripping member. He bit his lower lip hard, so hard it drew a trickle of blood, and sang a dirty prayer as a string of creamy cum spurted out of his abused manhood. Blushing, covered in sweat and drool, milky hot seed glistening on his pale chest and exposing his pleasurable sins at naked light, Atsumu was gorgeous.

"Poor boy, aren't you ashamed? You're a mess," murmured Sakusa in a cruel tone.

"Ah, Master..." sighed Atsumu, out of breath.

He was like an artwork.

His legs shook, twitched and jolted under the metallic spreader bar weakly. A slight dust of blood tinted his cherry red cheeks from the lack of breath. Atsumu couldn't see his dominant. But from what his touch said, the two young men were most likely going for a couple of rounds, whether he wanted it or not. A delightful distress painted on his half-covered face, and a rush of blood went straight to his pulsating member — again. Oh, God ! He cursed his own weak self of all names for having let that silver tongued man convince him to play a role in his little midnight games. He arched his back, tugged at his restraints, struggling to escape his own lustful desire.

But through the darkness of the blindfold, Atsumu swore he saw the gates of hell open right before his naked eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

The night skies were fleeing away, letting the pale pink light of the sunrise creep through the shutters of the room.  
  
  


Sakusa lit up a cigarette, as he usually did after having his little time with his partner. He looked out the window, nude and gorgeous, back facing Atsumu. They were still unclothed, and the attractive scent of cold sweat stuck to their bare skin filled the air with reminiscences of a sinful night.

"You really felt like torturin' me last night, didn't you?" Atsumu teased, lying under the cum-stained sheets.

"Kind of," sighed Sakusa. "And don't fool yourself, I'll make you cum twenty times more next time."

Atsumu shivered. The way he let no emotion show through his words was almost scary. Still, the young man could sense a painful ounce of guilt in his words, bleeding beneath the armor of his impassive expression, hammering his naked heart whenever he remembered how many times he had slapped, whipped and forced his submissive to cum last night. But how could he keep control over himself, when a man as high-and-mighty as Atsumu Miya displayed his exhausted, abused, and trembling figure before his stern eyes ? He was mischievous and beautiful, mysterious and broken, sweet and dirty between his threatening hands. His beauty was ethereal, and Sakusa more than once craved to own every inch of his elysian body, even remorseless to violate such a delicate and graceful thing. Pain and domination were part of his pleasure, and _nothing_ would ever change that.

"Want some?" asked the younger man, handing his cigarette to his partner.

"Actually, I was plannin' to go back to my dorm and take a shower," chuckled Atsumu nervously, removing the covers of himself. "I need a little time to sleep before practice, and I'm filthy right now."

Silence filled the air, and the time stopped between them. Sakusa knew that their relation was nothing more than sex, no strings attached. They were two horny, carefree young men, both feeling lonely, fucking in an attempt to sew the two gaping holes of their sore hearts with the threads and needles of lust. It was a friends with benefits type of relationship, but still, the younger man had a pride to satisfy. When he'd had a sinful angel in between his ungodly palms all night long, and carried out his lewdest desires with more fervour than a man in love, he had the right to ask for a reward, hadn't he ? Sadly, Atsumu had that displeasing habit of running away the second after the play was done, and it was one of the countless things about him that pissed Sakusa off.

"Well, you don't have to stay anyways," he said. His gaze wandered in between his bondage gear and the young man. His heart was lodged in his throat, and one gulp didn't seem to be enough to swallow it back down. "Leave, I'll clean up everything later."

Atsumu picked up his clothes and dressed up, without a word, without a glance, without interest for his partner. He went to the exit of the room, and his hand on the doorknob felt like the end of everything. "Okay then, see ya later, Omi."  
  
  


He closed the door. And as always, Sakusa was left all alone.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was rising, along with the fog that bathed the streets of Sendai every morning of winter.   
  
  


The young man tasted the silence of his room like a bitter heat that seared the buds of his tongue — it was like coffee. His eyes wandered between the leather ropes and cuffs, still tied to the bed, and the faded rose that stood on his nightstand, completely nude and shorn. He peeked closer, curious about how pretty something this bare and destitute could be. As time had passed and memories faded, she had lost her old beauty, and only kept the thorns she'd gained through pain and nightmares. It was sadly peculiar. Sakusa was a bit like her, somehow.

It was getting late. The young man stepped into his bathroom, without really thinking, and stared at his splendacious silhouette through the nebulous glass of the shower stall. He turned on the water, sighing in exhaustion. The burning liquid crawling down his porcelain skin allowed a soft hum to slip in between his satiny lips, and a feeling of peace to set his mind free from remorses and guilt. His dull gaze ran over his naked waist, belly and abdomen as it pleased, but suddenly stopped when it witnessed drips of cum, Atsumu's cum, still stuck to his wet skin. The sight was mere and insignificant, and yet he was thinking, thinking since he woke up, not being able to see, hear or feel something else. Lewd noises of a leather whip against bruised ass cheeks, firm tremors and spurts of come in between widely spread thighs, boiling and blood-soaking underskin, and the oh-so forbidden tongue of a sinner spewing obscene moans like a sweet venom dripping on divine lips — _again and again._

"Damn it."

Sakusa cursed that foreign flutter inside his stomach. He couldn't even think it was a symptom of love, not for a second.

Him, falling in love ?

For Atsumu Miya ?

The flutter exploded as soon as that prohibited name hit his mind, and an urge to spit it out instantly wrenched his guts. It was disgusting. Atsumu was arrogant, smug, loveless. He never looked at him like he was him, but rather like just another fool on the list of his worshipers — willing to satisfy his sexual desires, out of despair for tenderness, or perhaps for love. Oh, how unfair ! Sakusa was at his mercy. His submissive was a sweet angel beneath the sun's golden dew, fading in watercolored tones of heavens, but a devil behind closed doors when the moon wept upon the obscure skies, and laughed at his deceitful lies. Oh, how awful !

Sakusa might lose his mind.

His head had begun to ache from thinking so much. He already had a foot out of the shower stall, when a sudden throb of heat in between his thighs indicated him that he was, much to his dismay, rock-hard.

A lewd picture of his submissive — shuddering, mewling, cum-painted skin and looking like a cockslut — built in his mind, and evidently reflected shameful fantasies through the shape of his awfully horny manhood. The young man hated that feeling of dependence, just like he hated his dick. But despite his innocent looks that could have deceived anyone who was unaware of his midnight activities, Sakusa Kiyoomi was a man. He had needs, some just more unholy than others. That was what he repeated to himself desperately while his thumb started to rub soft, gentle circles around the tip of his lengthy member. His heart and mind raced a series of obscene thoughts as he began to jerk his throbbing cock harder, guilty to the core — but sinning felt so good.

"Ah, Atsumu," he groaned, closing his eyes and feeling himself about to release.

The steamy air of the bathroom began to feel unbreathable, and, lips parted, back arched, legs shaking, one last throaty moan slipped in between his teeth as his lungs began to burn. He fell onto the tiled wall, spilled half-dry come all over his chest with a hot breath, and the blazing lust that had inflamed him for a brief moment faded in the vaporous atmosphere of the room slowly. He was relieved. But something still burned inside his soul, something that had the loathsome taste of his sins. Perhaps he was just fated to crave for this man.

"Fuck," he cursed under his husky breath.

Oh, dear ! Sakusa was losing himself. His demons already had their mischievous claws and teeth dug deep into his soft flesh, and carved disgraceful burns into his diaphanous skin of pale gold a long time ago. Out of breath, weak and naked, the hostile rose had finally lowered her thorns.

And suddenly looked much more docile.


	6. Chapter 6

Volleyball practice felt like an old memory.

The young man breathed in, inhaling that particular scent that always filled the gym. It had been a while since he last came here. Mikasa balls slapped against the wooden floor and beads of sweat dripped from exhausted faces, and that mere sight was enough for Sakusa to realize how much he had actually missed it. He hadn't put his towel and bottle of water on the bench yet that his eyes — probably glimmering with the slightest burst of fallen stars — had already, much to his dismay, betrayed his composure. Before him stood, in its entire height and splendour, a graceful and muscular-built figure that could've been painted, sculpted and wrought by the heavenly hands of Apollo himself, drawing in blurred lines of smugness and pride from the edges of his broad shoulders to his signature, obnoxious, confident smirk. He stared, inhaled, and the curve of his dainty lips broke in a chaos of arrogance as he spoke.

"Good evening, _Sakusa_."

Something like anger twisted Sakusa's face in a dull wince. He hated this. Cordial appellations in public had become commonplace between the two young males since they'd begun to date, but something in the gleam of Atsumu's big, bright, honey eyes reflected the fiercest sparkle of pleasure that playing with Sakusa's nerves gave him, and did unfortunately not conceal the clear purpose that lay, mischevious and shameless, behind the sultry tone of his words. Sakusa wasn't easy to infuriate, but when the man who begged for his cock, cried for his touch and spread his legs like a _dirty little whore_ whenever they were alone suddenly behaved so distant and cold, he couldn't seem to keep control over himself.

But Atsumu only smirked wider, because he knew it.

"C'mon, _Sakusa_ , get ready," he chuckled, and gave him a meaningful wink. "Want me to toss for ya today?"

"Shut the fuck up," responded the younger man. A shiver froze Atsumu's blood. Sakusa's tone leaked with hatred, and strangely brought memories of last night back to their upset minds. "Or would you want me to make you? I don't remember you talking to me as if I was a complete stranger when you were screaming my name last night."

The brief curse rang through Atsumu's ears and ran under his skin, throughout his blood and to the core of his bones as the gloom of Sakusa's pupils pierced into his soul. He reveled in it, and plainly noted that he might jerk off to those words someday. The fact that he was awfully turned on became quite hard to hide, especially when a violent rush of blood went straight to his throbbing head and inflamed his cherry cheeks, unholy thoughts floating at the edge of his eyes considerably. God, his body craved for sex. But there was no way he'd let Sakusa drag him into his little devilish games during volleyball practice, though when the wild flame of a forbidden desire bloomed on his benign lips and lit up hell in his eyes, hopes and chastity suddenly seemed a little foolish.

"Omi, you should stop saying such things so loud here," said Atsumu, like recovering a semblance of wisdom.

"And _you_ should stop blushing like a virgin who's never been touched," retorted Sakusa as he leaned his face over the young man's ear, purposefully breathing against his skin, and managing to snatch a groan of annoyance from his throat. He chuckled, and murmured through gritted teeth, feral, "It makes me want to take you right now."

"Bastard," Atsumu smirked. Like seeking revenge, his clever fingers found their way to the hem of the taller man's jersey, and discretely searched for skin to stroke. As the slight caress of his digits tickled Sakusa's belly, he exhaled a hot breath, and whispered against his heated cheek. "Perhaps you could so."

His fingers went up to his partner's chest slowly, drawing trails of lust on his porcelain skin like an erotic painter, teasing his nerves a little. Sakusa's eyes flashed, bright and lethal, and his strong hand grabbed a firm fistful of the shorter man's forearm. Atsumu would _never_ be the one in control. The two young men were face to face, looking straight into each other's eyes, breathing against each other's lips, burning with an itching desire that went beyond hate. Anger tickled Sakusa's nose, and the brief feeling of a turn on had lodged his stomach in his throat.

Something about wrath was disgustingly arousing.

A pained wince was plastered on Atsumu's cocky face, and a sweet moan slipped in between his still wet lips when Sakusa dug his nails deeper into the soft flesh of his arm. It was pleasing, almost cute. The younger man smiled a little, perhaps in satisfaction, or perhaps in relief.

_You keep thinkin' you're the one in control, don't'cha ?_

Sakusa's grip went tighter. What if he was actually losing ? Atsumu smirked, ignoring the pain, laughing at the joke of fate.

_That's it, Omi. Keep givin' it t'me. Keep makin' me win._

Blood painfully flowed in Sakusa's whitened knuckles again as he let go of his brittle wrist, and looked around him to make sure no one had seen them. It was clear now. Atsumu was the conductor of everything, taking whatever he wanted from Sakusa, asking whatever he wanted to him, aware that the latter would carry out his merest desire. Therefore, dangerously falling apart amongst the always more shameful requests of Atsumu, it wouldn't be long before Sakusa's reign would lose itself through the depths of the Underworld.

"Somethin' wrong, Omi?" chuckled Atsumu. He massaged his wrist to try and soothe the stubborn tingling, smirking at the taller man. "You look quite upset tonight."

Sakusa huffed. He hated to admit it, but his cock was throbbing, and he most likely already knew where this discussion was going. As the devil beautifully painted lust all over the canvas of his face, and his partner kept peeking at him insistantly, he sighed, and forced a few words out of his tight throat.

"Something's in your mind, isn't it?"

He needed to hear the words he wanted to hear spilling from his the young man's ungodly lips like butterflies and flowers, charming yet lethal. Atsumu was winning everything. The setter looked up to face him, odiously grinning in anticipation of his own request. He was a hunter, on the lookout for his prey, about to dig his teeth into the soft flesh of his throat and never let his helpless body go away from them. He was so eager, rock hard and almost drooling at the thought of being so close to get what he wanted, that his following words escaped him in a way that was frighteningly natural.

"Let's do it in the showers."


	7. Chapter 7

Loud moans echoed through the walls of the bathroom like a lewd symphony.

"Ah, sweetheart— your hole feels so fucking good."

Atsumu ended up, once more, trapped in between Sakusa's lethal thorns, and the lingering threat of a retribution for his deliberate provocations hanging upon his neck like a vengeful blade. But this time he had gone too far, like a lot of times, and saying that he hadn't really wanted this would be a lie.

Wrists pinned above his head, he panted like a slut in heat, and moaned like a whore for his partner's cock as the latter picked up his pace. Sakusa was stone cold, pummeling his insides cruelly, ignoring the screams that rang through his ears like the laughter of the devil, taunting and obnoxious — saying subtly go on, harder, make me feel it. There was that mischievous thing about Atsumu. He liked it rough and wild, and had always known how to play by his own rules and make everyone dance to his tune, even when he didn't seem to be in a strong position. Sakusa was inflamed, blood boiling underneath his skin, focused on his ministrations as the obscene squelching sound coming from Atsumu's tight hole reminded him of how sinful men can get.

_The one in control is me, Miya. Never ever forget that._

"You're fucking enjoying this, aren't you?" Sakusa leaned onto his ear and murmured. His voice was cold, unwavering, not above a whisper. A singular serenity was placed in his demeaning profanities and motions, like he was giving his submissive's quivering body feathery kisses rather than wrecking his insides mechanically. "You do like it when I'm fucking hard into you, sweetheart?"

"OMI, I THINK— OH GOD, I'M ALMOST!" Atsumu cried out, blissful. Tears beaded in his honey eyes. He was somehow grateful he was facing the wall, so his dominant wouldn't notice the whacked look on his face as he was being roughly fucked against the wall. Still, the trembling in his voice was quite a betrayal.

"Going to come already?" asked Sakusa, laughing a little. Clear and vicious, his low chuckling was a deep and beautiful contrast to Atsumu's cocky moans. It was harmonious, charming, an angel would've shed a tear. The ravenette sucked in a harsh breath. "Such a little cockwhore."

His slender fingers ran through the light blond locks of dyed hair and pulled it, remorseless, twisting his neck as he fastened his pace sadistically. Atsumu stared at the ceiling with dilated pupils, or perhaps it was the actual thick steam of the shower stall. He didn't really know anymore. He didn't really know anything. He rested his elbows against the tiled wall, back nearly contorted in a graceful curve in order to meet Sakusa's frenzied thrusts, exposing the bruises of his bare ass in a position that was perfectly degrading.

"Fuck, sweetheart," groaned the younger man. "Who taught you to be such a slut?"

One, two, three hard smacks stung his soft flesh. Stinging pain and humiliation inflamed his underskin, leaving his pale ass cheeks burnt and marked, crushing the little dignity he had left into pieces under the weight of each new hit. Sakusa expected him to struggle, scream, or cry, but the latter just took it, tired of fighting. Without flinching, brows knitted together in a delicious expression of pain, he bore the hard tingling of shame that seeped through his veins like venom. Sakusa had broken him. Wrecked his innocence. Needed to satisfy his bestial desires, or perhaps to see how far he could push him. And there was nothing near over. Disappointed by the lack of reaction from his submissive, the other man growled through his teeth, wrath causing him to hit Atsumu a little harder than he'd meant to.

"Come on, Miya, scream," he snarled, smacking his ass repeatedly. "There's no point in trying to hide from me. Unless you want so bad to confirm that I'm fucking right."

Atsumu's mouth now hung open, but he could not answer to this anything other than gibberish of moans. It hurt. It was humiliating. So why did he like it so much ?

"That's what I thought," said Sakusa. "A born masochistic slut. Lucky me."

Perhaps he was right. Atsumu was so fucking lewd, so fucking desperate. He mewled, squirmed, howled, and put a strength he didn't know his body had left in repressing his forbidden climax. He shook his head in disagreement, or perhaps in despair, feeling like he was trapped in his own body, weak and stupid from the endorphins. But he didn't forget what he was. He was a man of pride, a perfect asshole, and he would rather kill himself than prove Sakusa right. His dominant shoved his entire length in and out of his obscenely reddened hole repeatedly, face, voice, actions not reflecting a mere hint of pleasure. He was calm, coldblooded, steady. Atsumu could feel his cock weeping thick strings of precome, making things even more slick.

"I bet you would fucking love it if someone caught us right now," murmured the ravenette bitterly, sliding two fingers inside his warm, sweet mouth, wrapping his other free hand around his throat. Atsumu choked, not even able to feel the pain anymore. "You would fucking love it if the whole team knew how much of a whore you are for my cock, don't you?"

"OMI, FUCK, FUCK—" he gagged around his digits, fingertips hitting the back of his throat. "I'M COMING!"

Sakusa growled. The other man parted his lips in a scream of ecstasy, cheeks tingling with heat, writhing in pleasure as thick spurts of creamy cum repainted his bruised chest white. Sakusa pulled his hair, forcing their eyes to meet as he twisted his neck. Mouth wide opened, drool-soaked chin and eyes blurry, Atsumu felt like it was all going to end like this. Trapped in between Sakusa's strong arms, stuck. Cursed for eternity.

"You should be thankful I let you cum, you fucking whore."

A wet heat seared his face, and a couple of sobs slipped past his silky lips as the other man dug his nails into the skin of his throat. Atsumu's breath hitched. He had never cried during sex, nor had he already come so hard. He felt defiled. Humiliated. Wrecked. But through his wide open wounds and cold tears of shame, something still burned and raged in the darkest depths of him, something like a thrill. Something that felt like pleasure. He wondered, confronted himself, but in the end, Sakusa was just sweetly surprising.

Atsumu didn't have any more time to ponder, nor to catch his breath. The other man tugged at his hair slightly, yet dryly enough to discipline him, and switched positions so he could rest against the cold tiled wall. He gazed into Atsumu's gleaming pupils, shining with lust and tears, the latter probably caused by the former. Sakusa applied the gentle pressure of his left thumb on his plump lower lip, guided his fully hardened cock towards it and stained his bright pink skin with precome slightly. It was such a pretty color — thought the younger man. His demons almost bent before the sinful sight, and the bells of death rang around the room as he spoke, sharp, seductive and cruel.

"Suck it."


	8. Chapter 8

"Ah— you're taking me in so well, sweetheart."

Pure greed leaked from his words, and he was scared his sempiternal vices would end up sending him burning in hell for good someday. But Sakusa could sell his soul to the devil at this point, nothing really mattered anymore when the setter got on his knees, and shamelessly — almost needily — slid his entire length in between his sweet, vicious and ungodly lips. His face was damp, bathed in sweat, tears, hot water and saliva, leaving almost no room for a mere breath. Sakusa shuddered, felt his spit-soaked thighs tremble, and forced an impassive expression on his face as his cock slid in between the other man's obscenely swollen lips repeatedly, tinted with a pretty shade of cherry. The scene was crude, pornlike, but despite the deceptive sweetness of their groans and caresses anyone would've been able to sense the flame of hatred that burned inside both their souls and turned their slightest strokes into hits. Sakusa parted his thin lips in order to moan again, amazed, weak.

Perhaps he wasn't so in control anymore.

"You should see yourself," he said, half scolding, half chuckling, badly hiding the fact that it was only to keep his risky thoughts away from his mind. "Fuck, your mouth was made for this."

Atsumu liked attention. From Sakusa, especially, who always managed to give him a lot without doing much. He didn't care whether his words were praise or degradation, a compliment or an insult, Atsumu would take it as it was, and revel in each part of it. No matter what Sakusa would say or do to him, he wouldn't stop until his slutty face was covered in creamy cum, _his dominant's cum_ , and blew any doubt away when he went back to deepthroating him. The younger man rested his head against the tiled wall. A pleased sigh spilled from his steam-kissed lips, damaged and bloody from the amount of times he'd bitten it, hoping Atsumu wouldn't notice it. The blond rubbed his warm, clever tongue in circles around the tip of his throbbing manhood, paying special attention to its dripping slit. It tasted bitter and heinous. A groan escaped Sakusa's slightly parted lips, low and throaty.

_Are you losin' it, Omi ? Doesn't matter what I do now, you can't get away. Yer too far fuckin' gone._

Of course Atsumu noticed everything, and was actually very aware of each of his partner's weaknesses. Oh, how Sakusa hated that feeling of true fragility, of inferiority. Atsumu choked on a chuckle, arrogant and cheeky, feeling the other man tug at the light blond locks of his hair and push his head back and forth along his pulsating member. His veiny forearms trembled slightly. He shoved his cock in and out of Atsumu's throat hard enough to make him gag, sighing satisfyingly. It felt good to remind himself — or perhaps the both of them — of his supremacy. Still deeply buried in the forgotten abyss of his sins, part of him knew it was only a delusional lie and the gaze of Atsumu's teary eyes screamed it louder than his own thoughts would ever be able to. Getting lewder each time the older man's sweaty forehead met Sakusa's stomach, the scene reached its peak when the latter began to thrust his hips in slow, rough motions, fucking his mouth relentlessly, jaw clenched, eyes cold. Truly, it was the epitome of obscenity.

"I feel it soon," Sakusa groaned under his husky breath, feeling himself reaching his orgasm.

His belly twitched, his thighs tensed and his grip went tight enough to carve the shape of his nails into Atsumu's scalf. A slow, torturingly gentle pleasure licked his insides like the wildest fires of hell, bringing him closer and closer to his climax each second. His cock twitched. Beads of sweat dropped from his toned, trembling arms. His mouth fell open, barely able not to draw out any betraying sound. Atsumu held back a chuckle, and engulfed his swollen member in the deepest crevices of his throat, earning a reluctant growl from his dominant.

_That's right, Omi. Come for me._

Sakusa struggled to stay still, and shot his creamy hot seed down Atsumu's throat relentlessly. He ran his slender fingers through his wet hair, slightly pulling it while his other free hand kept Atsumu's mouth closed, sewn, shut. This side of Atsumu, quiet and obedient, sleeping like a raging storm beneath quiet water, despite its silent beauty, was quite unsettling to Sakusa. It was something all new and scary, something he'd had to learn to bear since their very first play, something that seemed stronger than him. All this power, though willingly bent and submitted to Sakusa's heart's content through restraints and leather collars, sometimes seemed a little indomitable. He stared at the blond, mind full of thoughts yet dead in the eyes.

"Swallow it."

Atsumu moaned around his dick, still fluttering from the post-orgasm heat. Sakusa wouldn't need to say it twice. The bob of his adam apple indicated to him that he had swallowed every drop of it. Atsumu pulled out with a slight, slutty pop of his lips, a long line of spit stretching from the tip of Sakusa's member to his dripping tongue. The younger man slid his fingers inside his mouth gently, letting drool mixed with milky cum leak from his dainty lips, painting him as the true cumslut he was. Once he was allowed to stand up, Sakusa took his face in between his palms and shoved his tongue in between his teeth, savoring the way his own salty taste mixed with the sweetness of his saliva.

Something burned, ripped and punched Sakusa's gut as their tongues swayed in a drunken waltz, something that would've been aggressive and foreign a day ago. But he knew that feeling now. Its cause, its signification, its consequences. He opened his eyes to meet the ever smug Atsumu he had always known, sweating and smirking, arrogant and heartless, and it was a new punch. Sakusa had no doubt anymore.

This was all going to be trouble.


	9. Chapter 9

A thunderstorm was brewing in the dark skies.

Practice was finally done, and the two boys were left together, as always. The cold air of winter brushed against their skins as they stared into each other's eyes, getting lost in no thoughts. Sakusa gently slid his hands around the tiny waist of the setter as he pulled him closer to his chest, desperately looking for some tenderness or warmth through the cold inky blackness of the night. The younger man felt a familiar haze kissing his delighted heart when Atsumu breathed against his bare neck, a sensual bloody red dusting his milky cheeks from the cold.

The ravenette couldn't even blink, admiring the clouds of above that bled through Atsumu's honey eyes as if he was born from stardust in the skies. The only reason why he held back himself from tasting his heart shaped lips was his contemplation, which he never got tired of.

"Want me to walk you home?"

His deep voice resonated throughout the quiet street, leaving Atsumu craving for more of this bewitching melody. Strangely, there was not even a drip of bawdiness leaking from his melancholic tone like everytime they talked, it was ever just sweet and mindful.

The young man chuckled awkwardly, "I can walk by myself, my butt doesn't hurt that bad."

But Sakusa insisted, "I wasn't talking about—"

"Please Kiyoomi, listen."

Atsumu cut him off in a tone so sharp, a knife seemed ridiculous in comparison. He didn't mean to startle him, but knowing Sakusa and his sinful nature too well by now, he could tell that something was wrong. He didn't like the way sugar-coated words rolled out of his silver tongue like magic spells, feeling like a sticky trap you never find a way off. He could have foolishly played his little game without considering the consequences twice, but he was aware of the addicting effect Sakusa's mischievous words had on him by now. And his great carefulness towards the younger man was the reason why he coldly pulled off the embrace.

"We shouldn't be doin' that."

Sakusa felt his chest clench from the rejection, "Why?"

"Because it's so sudden, Omi," said Atsumu, taking a step away. "Ya never showed me any interest or affection unless it's in bed, and we were completely okay with that till today. So why tryin' to play with my feelings now, don'tcha have enough hurting me when we fuck?"

"But—"

"Just see ya later Omi-kun, okay?"

Before he could even protest, the shorter boy had already left him alone, weak and hurt in the middle of his own despair. The obscure skies suddenly exploded, crying out the violent storm of sorrow they'd been holding back all this time. The rageful hail of winter whipped the young man's face. He stood still, lonely, in the middle of an empty street of Sendai.

"What's happening to me, for God's sake?"

For the first time of his life, Sakusa felt dominated by his feelings, especially by this foreign sensation that made him want to rip his own chest with a burning blade — perhaps to make sure it wasn't a nightmare, perhaps to forget how insufferable the pain was. He didn't know much about that feeling.

But it certainly wasn't done blowing his mind yet.


	10. Chapter 10

The rain never stopped from pouring.

Sleeping like quiet water beneath his perpetual stoic and wise facade, Sakusa's fantasmatic side only waited for the clock to struck midnight to explode like a thunderstorm. He was sitting on his chair with his pants lowered half his thighs, biting his tee shirt to keep it from falling back down his belly, cheeks dusted with peachy pink from the intense effort and the lack of breath.

He was so fucking frustrated.

Ever since the night had fallen on the campus, Sakusa was torturing his own brain with questions about what happened earlier until his head ached from the overthinking. Atsumu was playing like the sweet devil on his tired soul.

Ah ! He might be the cause of his madness.

And yet, as the ungodly man he was, Sakusa knew what he _had_ to do whenever he felt overwhelmed.

Once again, he'd bent before his own desires and let his blameworthy hormones take control over himself ; the count of how many times he'd masturbated tonight had slipped out of his head a long time ago. Five, was it ? But oh, none of this really mattered anymore when the burning pleasure that consumed his thoughts like a wildfire was much stronger than the godawful guilt that followed right after. So here he was again, pumping up and down his throbbing member at a divine speed, lewd groans repeatedly hitting the velvety walls of his room as strong shivers crossed the nerves of his heated skin.

He was going insane, realizing how much the mere thought of such an asshole — who had just rejected him — had him so weak and needy. It was unbearable.

The unholy sounds of the slaps against the base of his cock were getting noisier as he fastened the pace of his hand, feeling like he wouldn't last any longer. He threw his head back and spread his shaky legs a little more, shamefully feeling his orgasm building in his stomach. Searing wrath tingled his nose as the only thing that came to his mind at that moment was the lovely face of Atsumu Miya — obnoxiously smirking at him. He came for what felt like an eternity, biting his lower lip to try and contain his obscene groans, spilling his milky seed all over his desk. Oh, my ! Frustration had never felt this good.

"Fuck."

The young man had sworn and masturbated too much for one night. He grabbed his usual post-orgasm cigarette and lit it up, feeling his sanity fade in the stifling air of his room like the weak flame of an old candle you can't hope to ever relight. His lustful thoughts refused to leave his mind, and when the expression on his submissive's face — trying to bear the pain of his hundreds of twisted punishments — hit his fuzzy mind, he suddenly craved for another orgasm.

He cursed under his unsteady breath, feeling the whole of his blood rushing straight to his throbbing dick — again. His stamina was never ending. He sighed in annoyance, wondering if he'd ever stop, go to sleep, and eventually recover his usual wisdom.

But Sakusa didn't give a fuck of control tonight.

His thumb began to rub soft circles around the tip of his lengthy member, spreading his fluids along his wet length as his hand began to jerk his cock. Once again, Sakusa abandoned himself to the addictive pleasures of lust, letting his mind work for him in picturing delusional fantasies of an obvious someone.

It was hellishly painful to admit it, but when he realized with horror that he couldn't please himself anymore without thinking of that dickhead, it became undeniable. He'd played with the devil, and only won at the end of the day, to lose at his own little risky game.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had fallen in love.


	11. Chapter 11

"Shit, the distributor is broken again!"

Bokuto whined, shaking the vending machine and craving for a cereal bar, "Tsum-Tsum, you have anything to eat ? I'm starving."

Atsumu sighed, half-closing his eyelids. The day hadn't begun yet, and he was already awfully tired from his last sleepless night. But how can you sleep, when dreams full of venomous thoughts, sensual whispers, destructive caresses, leather ropes and love bites jail your mind through the mischievous and escapeless trap of insomnia ?

Oh, dear ! Atsumu was fucking scared.

What hung upon him was a sweet curse, a cunning poison, a guilty desire. He was fated to crave for this coldblooded man who haunted his dreams like a wandering soul — turning them into horrific nightmares. God ! Sakusa truly had the entire world in between his divine palms.

"'Tsumu, you feeling okay?"

The blond weakly lifted his chin to Bokuto. A worried frown twisted his handsome features. The older man most likely knew that something was wrong, very aware of his friend's awful tendency to get himself in trouble. It must've been stupid teenagers' romantic problems, but thinking that the great Atsumu Miya also had doubtful days of darkness was somehow unsettling to Bokuto.

But who could blame him ? The man who sat in front of him was a playboy, a women collector, an obnoxious seducer whose idle days had always been dedicated to the vices of pleasure. It was hard to convince himself that this man could ever have worries.

The younger man sloppily handed a chocolate bar to his friend, "I'm alright."

That was an unguilty lie, and they both knew it. Atsumu looked up to the fleeing clouds in the watercolor painted sky, rays of rising sun cradling his honey eyes with gold and gentleness. Talking about his messy sentimental situation would have unburdened his sore shoulders and back for good, but he just couldn't. He couldn't tell why, but something kept him from admitting his feelings. Perhaps he had finally gotten used to the disparaging facade people always limited his whole being to; an asshole who takes innocent people's hearts as toys to play with, and throws them unceremoniously when they get broken.

Perhaps it was just pride.

"Listen Tsum-Tsum," said Bokuto, accepting the snack and sitting next to him. "You might be a dick sometimes."

"Thank you."

"But that doesn't mean you can't complain when your problems are a pain in your ass. You know you can trust me, right?"

Atsumu did not need to be reminded. Bokuto was one of the most reliable persons he knew, and he wouldn't hesitate a single second to confess what was weighing on his heart if only he knew how to describe it. Perhaps the fact that he dreamt of a romance with his coldhearted sex partner — and most of the time woke up in tears when he realized it was just a chimeric illusion — was too shameful and degrading to be admitted. But there had to be other ways to get advice. Atsumu took a deep breath, about to ask something he might regret.

"Have ya ever fallen in love for someone you knew you'd never have?"

His mouth closed after his words shot. Birds stopped singing; wind stopped blowing. A spacelike silence followed his question, and the time remained silent before so much sadness. It was the feelings of a man in love who had just spoken, and not any purposeful overplay had been pulling the strings of Atsumu's marble heart.

"So, here's the thing," Bokuto chuckled. "I did, surprisingly."

"Really?" Atsumu said, confused. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it was a long time ago now. He was my setter back in high school, and I fell so madly in love for him it hurt like shit," said Bokuto. "But you know, what hurt even more was the fact that he didn't love me back."

Bokuto's tone was as faint and gloomy as a dusk of winter, yet clear and striking like falls of tears. He must have loved this pretty setter so much. Atsumu could relate his pain, strangely, for someone who did not even know the pain of being heartbroken because everyone was always at his feet. It must've indeed hurt, but he still needed to know more.

"Did you confess to him?"

"Of course," responded Bokuto, "You can't just hold back your feelings, 'Tsumu. If you know you'll end up hurt in any case, you'd better get rid of what you're carrying inside," the grey haired boy rested his head against the wall and smiled. "Besides, being in love is not a shame nor a weakness."

"You're right," said Atsumu. He stood up and offered his hand to the older man. "I'll consider this. Thank you, Bokkun."

The bell rang, and before Atsumu waved goodbye at his friend, the latter beamed at him — addressing him that characteristic smile of his, that most of the time meant he had a _cataclysmic_ idea.

"By the way, 'Tsumu, meet at my place tomorrow night," chuckled Bokuto chaotically. "Everyone will be there, and you need to relax."

A bright sparkle enlightened Atsumu's dull eyes as a gleeful smile painted over his handsome face. A party was all that he needed. Bokuto being the host meant dance floor, hard drinking, old high school friends and stupid stripping games. He never had any memories of the nights he spent there, but that must've been awesome.

"I'm in."

Still, and not knowing why, he felt like something bad was going to happen.


	12. Chapter 12

The house reeked of alcohol already.

"Good evening, Sakusa."

The young man gulped down his beer, feeling like he was stuck to the bar, disgusted at the mere thought of taking a single step into the crowded dance floor. Dozens of heated bodies swayed in a drunken waltz, desperately tightened on each other as if this night was going to be their last. The music growled in Sakusa's ears and echoed through his mind like a constant scream, almost completely drowning Bokuto's voice under its heavy bass. God, it was headaching loud.

"Havin' a great time, aren't you?"

Sakusa rolled his eyes at the sarcastic comment. His head already throbbed from the strong drink and the alcohol scented air, and he wondered why he came here in the first place. He wasn't in the mood to talk, and made it quite clear when he poured the rest of the bottle inside his glass — earning a smirk from the third year.

"Sure," he responded.

He sipped on the golden, sparkling liquid, letting his shadowed gaze run over the heated mess of hormonal teenagers as it pleased. It wandered, danced here and there, and suddenly stopped on a group of friends. He recognized some boys of the volleyball team and their old friends from high school. Many familiar faces he last saw years ago could be seen behind the smoke screen of cigarette, but the moment his eyes went dark was when they froze, paralyzed, on the silhouettes of two young people — heatedly making out on the couch, tongues fighting for dominance, bodies consumed with a youthful sexual desire. The smoky air that filled the entire house blurred his vision, but Sakusa somehow managed to recognize feminine curves protruding from a tight dress, ruby red heels drawing the end of graceful legs, and sharp nails running through light blond locks of hair sensually — falling on the ecstatic face of a true greek god. He knew that face too well to be in denial.

Bokuto sneered, "God, 'Tsumu absolutely loves to attract attention, doesn't he?

He did for sure. Sakusa felt his heart tighten with anger. The only thing he wanted right now was to bury himself six feet under the ground, only to hide the fact that this mere sight had absolutely infuriated him.

"Hey hey, why the long face?" Bokuto teased in a tone that was aware of what was going on in Sakusa's mind. "You look pretty upset to see him like this."

The ravenette clicked his tongue at the ash-haired boy's remark, and finished his third beer of the night in one gulp — drowning his thirst and anger away. He was mad, flustered, and so fucking jealous, but he had no power of restriction on the young man. They had a contract, whose rules had been chosen by Sakusa himself, and it said _sex friends_. But still, knowing that the heart of the man he loved could belong to someone else awfully stung and hurt his own one.

"I know we're not even friends, but let me tell you something," continued Bokuto, pouring piña colada inside both their glasses. "When I first met Atsumu, I thought he was the type of man who flirts with whatever has two legs and can't ever fall in love for one girl."

"It indeed resembles that asshole."

"Then I got to know him," continued Bokuto with a frown, "And realized that the reason why he fucked here and there was to forget that emptiness in his heart. He's lonely."

Sakusa shrugged insensitively, and gulped  
down the sweet liquid again, pondering. That couldn't be true. Atsumu had dozens of worshippers, and he Sakusa had never been able to see any pain or lack of love behind his shitty behavior. But perhaps that was why the two young men ended up attracted to each other in the first place, both dreaming of a romantic idyll in a foolish attempt to sew their sore hearts with the threads and needles of sex. Bokuto patted his back, tearing him off of his thoughts, which in return Sakusa just furrowed his brows and looked away.

"C'mon, get his drunk ass home," the older boy smiled. "And don't hold a grudge against him. He wouldn't have let her touch him at all if he was sober."

The ravenette stood up and ran his fingers through the curls of his hair, sighing as Bokuto punched the air triumphantly, "Fine."

It was weird, though. He wondered if his great indulgence towards the young man was caused by the pure possessive reasoning of getting him back for himself alone, or the way alcohol and smoke spitefully held him through the crevices of its devastating embrace tonight. In any case, he felt like he had the biggest balls on Earth. Sakusa made his way through the smoky dance floor with his usual dull frown, the displeasing feeling of having all eyes on him stuck to his skin like warm, liquid sugar. The young man often looked at himself in the mirror, and knew that he was attractive. And yet, the crowd's unremitting gazes was something he had never gotten used to.

"Excuse me."

The ravenette stood in front of the two teenagers who kissed, caressed and laughed on the couch, dramatically casting his threatening shadow upon them. He sternly grabbed the young man's dainty chin in between his rough fingers and lifted his face up.

"Good evening, Atsumu."

His deep and sultry voice leaked with hatred, and a wordless expression froze Atsumu's drunken pupils in an abyss of fear. The female looked at Sakusa with incredulity, impressed and frightened, and didn't hesitate to get off of the blond and leave the two men alone — pitifully condemning the former to his own fate. Startled, the older man stared at the thunderstorm that raged beneath Sakusa's arctic eyes and shivered. He looked like he was about to kill a man, and this man might, fortuitously, happen to be him.

"H-hey Sakusa, hum, h-how's it goin'?"

His hiccuped voice got shut by a hard slap on the face. Atsumu didn't dare to move, astonished, feeling like his heated cheek suffered from an internal bleeding. Everyone was staring at them, and completely exposed, the older man was pretty sure that there would be dire consequences on theirlittle _secret_ relationship. But tonight, Sakusa didn't give a fuck of what others would think, because the only thing that invaded him beside his wrath was his urging desire to make things clear with his submissive. His heart had just been set on fire, and nothing would put it out.

"You're coming with me."


	13. Chapter 13

Atsumu didn't know he had just woken up a demon.

The young man ended up, once again, trapped in between his dominant's tall figure and the latter's forbidden bed. He let out a faint whine as Sakusa grabbed his chin in between his slender fingers, crushing his cheeks together. A blood-chilling darkness dawned in the gloom of his eyes as he got closer to breaking his jaw each second he tightened his grip. Atsumu was practically deprived from his breath, and could not even make a single movement — paralyzed from the fear that hung upon his head like a sword of Damocles.

"You little whore." Sakusa whispered to his ear, sending a series of shivers down his spine. "Drinking so hard you end up unconscious and give your body to strangers ? I can't believe you disrespect yourself so much."

Atsumu's jaw clenched as the younger man slid his arms around his waist, and threw his head back with a delicate moan when wet lips and a cold breath sensually brushed against the silky skin of his neck.

"This body is mine. Don't ever mess with my property again."

Tears beaded in Atsumu's eyes as he nodded his head — foreseeing what was about to happen to him, and it wasn't the gentlest thing he had ever lived. If by chance he had any doubts left, his suspicions were all confirmed at once when he gathered enough courage to peek into Sakusa's eyes, dark against dark, as obscure and unreadable as always, yet clearly burning with this god awful itch to hurt and ruin him. Sakusa was fucking mad, and Atsumu realized that his sufferings were about to start when the ravenette unbuckled his belt and forcefully shoved his frail body down the mattress.

"Lay down."

"What are you gonna do?" whimpered the older man.

Sakusa untied his necktie and brutally grabbed his submissive's wrists, staring at him dead in the eyes. Reluctant yet pretty hopeless, Atsumu struggled to get off of his strong grip. And as expected, Sakusa dug his nails deep in the soft flesh of his forearms and savagely pulled his hair with his other free hand. The anger that froze his gaze betrayed how pissed off he was.

He wouldn't be gentle.

"I'm going to remind you who you belong to, you fucking slut."

No matter how hard Atsumu tried to convince himself that it was the regular dirty talk they used during their plays, he knew, deep down, that it wasn't at all. Words hurt more than hits, and that was too much for him. Not being able to hold back his tears anymore, the young man finally let it all out, bursting in a painful cry, choking on his own tears, screaming for every god of above to hear his desperate prayer. How tragic ! He hated this man, he hated him to the core of his broken heart. He wanted all this to stop, and yet, an obscure reason in his madness for his own tormentor just kept him from turning his heels.

He couldn't stop loving him.

"Why'd ya always have to hurt me?" Atsumu cried out, chest violently shaken with sobs.

Sakusa loosened his grip, letting go of his submissive's wrists as the adrenaline that had inflamed him for a brief moment decreased. He realized how tight he had held his forearm as blood painfully flowed in his whitened knuckles again, feeling guilt crawling on his back. He looked at his own brutal arm, realizing with horror that he hadn't hesitated a mere second to raise his hand on the young man — as if it was purely made to injure him.

"It's part of me." Sakusa stated blankly, standing up to put back his necktie and belt in their assigned drawer. "You won't change it, no matter how hard you try."

"You're so toxic, Sakusa."

The younger man felt his heart skip a beat, and held his breath for a bunch of seconds to maintain the spacelike silence that reigned between the two young boys — listening carefully to the irregular, tearful breathing of the man who sat on his bed. Atsumu felt dirty. An insufferable humiliation consumed his insides as if he had drunk a glass of burning liquor. He crossed his arms on his chest, and buried his head in his knees in a naive attempt of hiding himself.

"You're right, this is unhealthy for you," Sakusa breathlessly murmured. "You should leave before something bad happens, Atsumu."

The older man raised his chin, eyes glimmering with a bad idea. "... No."

Astonished, the ravenette abruptly turned around to face his partner, "What does that mean?"

Atsumu was hurt. Sick of their relationship. Frustrated to be so close to someone he couldn't even love. His sufferings needed to end, but still, he absolutely needed to make sure of something. Biting his lower lip, he loudly gulped down his regrets and apprehensions as he held out his wrists toward his dominant, though aware that it might be the biggest mistake he could make tonight. Sakusa raised his brows in confusion. Atsumu might be stupid, but he was ready to face the consequences of his actions.

"Tie me up," Atsumu sobbed, feeling his drunkenness gradually leaving his body as a strong insecurity replaced it. "Fuck me, without holdin' back. Show me how far this little game can go."

The time froze across the room. Sakusa stared at his submissive, a soulless look in his eyes. After taking some more time to process what he had just heard, he stood up and walked over his desk with a cadaveric gesture, a worn out sigh stuck in the back of his throat. He slowly opened several drawers, raising an excruciating tension between the two young men, and took out many toys destined to their sex plays. Whips, handcuffs and leather ropes might have always been a lustful fantasy of Atsumu, but it had never seemed scarier than tonight. The latter difficulty forced his saliva down his clenched throat as Sakusa stopped by the record player, and put a vinyl on it. The sound slowly scratched for a second before the music started playing, settling an erotic atmosphere across the room. An inky night of winter fell into his eyes, and Sakusa grabbed the pair of wrists his submissive handed him.

"Then I hope you're ready to tell me goodbye once we're done."


	14. Chapter 14

It was all fated to be trouble.

Like a tyrannical king who watches his woeful kingdom wither in tears and dust, Sakusa stared at his submissive with a cold indifference shadowing his nebulous pupils. Stonehearted, he wouldn't be satisfied until he had not repainted his entire body with his red strings of blood and pain. Atsumu lied amidst chaos and violence unflinchingly, and quietly bore the infernal torments of the leather whip against his swollen skin — his ethereal delicacy beautifully contrasted with the cruel show he was condemned to put on.

"hmpf..."

The young man gracefully arched his back and neck, moans muffled by his dominant's striped blue necktie, and forcefully tugged at the ropes that maintained his wrists and ankles tied to the edges of the bed. Mesmerized, Sakusa let the sight of that lewd picture fill his eyes with sublimity, admiring the curvy shape of his injured body like he would have admired an authentic Michelangelo sculpture.

"That's it," he murmured to his ear, "Cry for me. It's not like anyone's gonna hear how pitiful you sound here."

His thorny words coldly rolled out of his tongue like a breathless whisper, soaking through Atsumu's burning veins like liquefied steel. Lost in his contemplation, the younger man pulled the necktie off of his submissive's mouth and let him breath and pant as he pleased. Thinking that he was finally going to get some rest — which he, according to himself, lawfully deserved, Atsumu let flows of his saliva drip on the sheets like a dying beast. But coldblooded as always, Sakusa managed to crush his foolish hopes in between the palms of his punitive hands as he forced two fingers down his throat.

"Now that it's only the two of us, tell me," he began, brutally inserting his saliva coated digits inside Atsumu's tight hole, causing the latter to gasp and twitch his thighs instantaneously. "Are you scared of me?"

The young man parted his dry lips in a silent scream, though knowing that he wouldn't be able to give any answer to the cruel riddle. The sensation of his dominant's fingers pumping in and out of his hot core felt heavenly pleasuring, and he hated it. If he would've usually begged to be fucked like a cockslut, he couldn't take such a risk tonight — conscious that the monstrous scene which he was the protagonist for an instant was absolutely _not_ a play.

"No response?" asked the ravenette abruptly, positioning the tip of his lengthy member at his wet entrance. "Well, seems like I've wasted my time."

"W-wait—" whined Atsumu, even aware that his supplications were aimless.

"Now let the show begin."

His voice was as clear, bitter and stinging as always, uttering harsh words without an ounce of hesitation — Atsumu hated that, too. Without warning, he furiously slammed his hips against his submissive's bare ass, burying his entire length inside his clenched hole in one thrust. He was impatient.

"So, how does it feel?" he leaned onto the young man's ear and breathlessly whispered, hatred dripping from his husky voice. "That's what you wanted, is that not?"

He thrust his hips forward, giving a first forceful push that suddenly left Atsumu incapable of speech. The latter clacked his teeth together, getting closer and closer to collapsing each time his dominant vigorously rammed into him, letting out a lewd squelch sound as his rock-hard manhood pummeled his wet insides deliciously. Out of breath, he turned his head to the side to try and hide his obscene expression — wishing it'd be enough to conceal the divine bliss that showily painted over his attractive face.

"Raise your head, babe," ordered the ravenette dryly, "Let me know how amazing my cock feels inside you."

Atsumu closed his eyes, trying to forget the weight of his dominant's hammering gaze. Still, he felt it, as heavy as before. As if to wake him up, Sakusa fastened his pace and sank inside him impossibly deeper, repeatedly hitting his sweetest spot at a godly speed.

"SAKUSA— OH, GOD!"

Atsumu bit his lower lip hard, so hard it drew a trickle of glistening blood, and realized that he couldn't take it anymore. His entire body started to shake with intense jolts of pleasure as his orgasm sent him to seventh heaven. Lungs heaving for air and throat tightened with unwillingness, he spilled his creamy cum all over his stomach, chest and neck — genuinely disgusted. He hated it. He hated Sakusa. And he hated himself.

"Already?" growled the ravenette, his tone as sour and hateful as always. "What a fucking _painslut_."

As sharp and vicious as a needle, the degrading comment precisely stung Atsumu where it hurt the most. He held his breath to contain his sobs as his deceitful world of idyllic lies fell apart. Sakusa meant it. Everything he said and did tonight was honest and purposeful, and that only made it a little more unbearable for the young man.

But his cruel partner was unable to relate.

The latter grabbed his drooly chin in between his slender fingers pitilessly, preventing him from escaping his searing gaze. The bestial thirst for tears that reflected through his inky black eyes finally painted his true colors all over his insensitive face, which the purest man on Earth would've called the portrayal of the devil.

Goodness ! Atsumu could've cried tears of blood.

Unready to bear any more of this pervert game, the young man finally collapsed on the satiny sheets of the bed. Sakusa's scalding gaze wandered all over his wounded body, blank and lethal, filled with impassivity. But still, he decided to free his wrists and ankles from the ropes, repressing a smirk as he noticed how much the leather had lacerated his pale skin — leaving it red and raw. Atsumu let out a relieved sigh, and swore he took his first step in heaven. It was the end, it had to be.

But just like the storm that comes after the quiet wave, came a rough slap on his face.

"You haven't seen how far it can go yet, babe."


	15. Chapter 15

Truly, Sakusa was a beast.

A bright shade of purplish red tinting his injured cheek, Atsumu could taste a metallic trickle of blood through the sweetness of his saliva. Bitter tears streamed down his midnight face, and the painful humiliation of the slap hammered his nerves like a punishment for foolishly thinking that his sufferings were done.

Sakusa's pride wasn't satisfied yet.

The younger man slid his hands all the way down his submissive's ribcage to his dainty waist, rough fingers against silky skin, defiling the innate grace of his violated body. He flipped him over, and crushed his face onto the mattress and muffled his futile prayers.

"You're so fucking cute like this," he whispered, fingertips gently caressing his immaculate, still unwounded back and stopping at the curve of his ass. Atsumu jolted as a shiver crawled up his spine, snatching a sinister chuckle from his dominant's lungs. "But don't be so impatient, babe, we're just getting to the fun part."

The young man repressed his urge to vomit, sick of being on display for the pleasure of such cruel eyes. His chest was tightened with humiliation, and every burning breath torn from his heavy lungs restricted his words from passing farther his swollen lips. Sakusa watched the graceful shape of his nude figure with eyes of shadow, and the moonlight that bled through the window theatrically casted her silver light upon the pale skin of his pure, bruised and cum-covered body. Atsumu felt like a disgusting mess. The young man raised his punishingful leather black belt above his head, and smacked it back down the cheeks of his ass insensitively — again and again. Atsumu buried his face deeper into the sheets as the acute pain sent searing tingles all the way up his aching cock, and tried to shed the weight of his dominant's gaze.

"You're taking it better than I thought," the ravenette stated, a biting mix of lust and sourness leaking from his unwavering voice. "But would you still be that resilient if my cock was wrecking your insides right now, Atsumu?"

An obscene moan reverberated around the soundproof walls of purple velvet like the complaint of an angel. His dominant's poisoned words alone could have sent him on cloud nine, and he hated that. He felt himself sink a little deeper into the abyss of unconsciousness each time Sakusa's ignominious words crushed his honor and dignity into miserable pieces, and felt another orgasm building inside his stomach. There was no turning back for them at this point. It needed to stop. They both wanted it. But the winner wouldn't be the one whose nerves of steel would break first, the one who'll step on his pride and admit that he was weaker, the one who'd decide to put an end to the show. And despite it all, one of them would surrender soon.

"Sakusa," the voice of Atsumu echoed through the room, faint, yet clear and unshakeable. He rested his wet cheek against the pillow so his dominant could enjoy the view of his exhausted face, and contemplate his victory. "I had enough."

Sakusa's face didn't change; cold, dispassionate and beautiful, like a picture in black and white. Curled locks of his raven hair fell on his damp forehead as he panted heavily, remaining deadly wordless. It had been several minutes he was waiting for the moment when Atsumu's brittle thread of patience would finally break, and the young man would realize for good how tragic falling in love for a pitiless beast was. Sakusa had won the battle, and he knew it. But through the bloody field of his distasteful triumph, and staring at his submissive sternly from his fictitious throne of above, he couldn't help but feel vulnerable and lonely.

Like he was the one who had lost.

Atsumu didn't dare to move, scared to take another nasty slap in the face that'd bring him back to the cruel reality of his fate. He was exhausted, humiliated, broken, and the breathtaking contrast between pain and relief somehow managed to snatch torrents of tears from his amber eyes, which unfortunately didn't seem enough to wash Sakusa's sins off of his sticky skin. God ! How many times had he wished he could unlove him ?

"So ya really enjoy seeing me like this?" the blond sobbed through the last vapors of alcohol. "Is doing that to me yer only way to feel pleasure?"

"I'm sorry, Atsumu."

"No, you're not," he retorted, almost choking on his saliva, pain and sorrow coloring his dusty voice. "We were just wrong from the beginnin', Sakusa."

His pointed accent from Hyōgo sung each vowel with an acid elegance, only making his words a little harsher to Sakusa's ears. Atsumu stood up limply, curtly pushed the younger man aside and didn't spare him a second glance. The scowl painted on his godlike face dropped beads of sweat and salt to the ground as he picked up his clothes with the little strength he had left, hastening to hide his disgraceful wounds and degraded body beneath the fabric. Sakusa didn't bother apologizing more, partly because he knew that Atsumu wouldn't deign to listen, but mainly because things were just better this way. The older man made his way to the exit of the room, and closed the wooden door behind him.

Thank God, it was the very end for the two of them.


	16. Chapter 16

December wept silver upon the obscure skies.

It had been a whole week since Atsumu had left the god forbidden playroom of his ex-partner, leaving their relationship in the lap of the gods. The two had never crossed paths since that fateful night, and he was definitely avoiding Sakusa. But the world had seen broken hearts since the dawn of time, and it wouldn't stop living for such a minimal one.

When Sakusa took his first step into the courtyard, the whole campus, lying beneath its white coat of snow, was quiet and empty. He'd barely slept two hours, trapped in the clutches of fear, knowing that diving into the oh-so realistic world of nightmares would've driven him insane.

A young man rested his back against the vending machine, standing alone and seeking some warmth through his navy blue scarf and burning coffee.

"Hello, Bokuto-san." Sakusa greeted blankly. "I'd like to use the distributor."

Bokuto didn't raise his chin, nor even spared a glance at the ravenette. He stepped aside without a single word. The young man found it strange; the third year never behaved like that, especially when last time they talked was around two shots of melting-stomach whiskey.

But Sakusa didn't ask for more, since the only thing he cared about right now was to drink something burning and bitter — hoping that'd be enough to wash his ungodly mouth from his swearing of last night.

"Atsumu told me," blurted Bokuto, breaking the thin glass of silence between them. "When he called me at three in the fuckin' morning and could barely align two stupid words without choking on his own sobs, I felt obligated to ask if something had went wrong after you guys left my place."

Sakusa's gaze was focused on the white ground, dark and cold enough to melt in the atmosphere and vanish with guilt. He bit his inner lip, but didn't look away from the vending machine. Pretending to choose his drink carefully was easier than facing the older man.

"I see."

"You _see_?" asked Bokuto, whose composed behavior burst all of a sudden, raising his voice enough to make it resonate through the empty courtyard. "You fuckin' broke a man, you son of a bitch. Don't you feel like shit, not even a little?"

The older man grabbed a fistful of Sakusa's shirt and snarled at his face, brows furrowed, gaze scalding.

"He was trembling like a fuckin' leaf when he stripped his shirt and showed his bruises to me," Bokuto growled, blazing eyes piercing through Sakusa's soul. "He was too ashamed to say a single word about what you'd just fuckin' done to him, do you realize?"

Sakusa furrowed his perfectly drawn brows, glaring at the shorter man, unimpressed. "Let go of me."

"You're a fucking asshole, Sakusa." Bokuto's threatening tone faded as the grip of his hand loosened, words not less purposefully sharp.

"At least Atsumu realized it before he grew too attached to me," the ravenette shrugged, replacing his tie properly, "So it's not that bad."

Bokuto's eyes flashed, bright and wrathful, and not a bare second passed before one of his fists flung right into Sakusa's face as his other free one slammed him onto the wall. The young man's ears rang with pain, empty eyes hidden beneath the curls of his raven hair. He didn't flinch nor fought back, and took the hit, paralyzed from the shock. His jaw was probably — certainly broken. He deserved it.

"How fucking dare you?" Bokuto spat at him, noticing a trickle of blood drawing from his lower lip, barely realizing the violence of his previous hit. "Can't you just see that this man would take a fuckin' bullet in the chest just for your sadistic ass, you bastard?"

Bokuto's grip went tighter on the younger man's chest, and suddenly seemed strong enough to break his ribs against the hard concrete. His herculean strength restricted the air from Sakusa's lungs at the point where he could've choked, but in any case, he did not try to breathe.

The young man raised his sore chin, planting his black eyes into Bokuto's golden ones, light against dark, day against night. The latter couldn't help but shiver, noticing that characteristic void of guilt, silence and emptiness through his aimless gaze, the one you can see behind the glassy pupils of murderers. He decided to get off of him before he'd do something regrettable — or perhaps it was, deep down, the wordless fear that jailed his strength through the dark crevices of his abyssal eyes.

Sakusa wiped the smear of blood from his mouth with a disgusted look, but quickly regained his composure. "Where is Atsumu?"

"Go fuck yourself, Sakusa," responded Bokuto, tugging at his the edges of his scarf to protect his neck from the cold. "You won't raise your filthy hand on him anymore."

"I need to talk to him."

That wasn't completely a lie, although he mainly wanted to _see_ Atsumu. He wanted to tell him how sorry he was, he wanted to close his eyes and feel the caress of his soft breath against the skin of his neck, he wanted to live in the deceitful romance of his dreams forever. Sakusa was on his knees, praying to love.

"Atsumu is moving back to Hyōgo," said Bokuto. "I genuinely thought that you two could've been somethin', but turns out I was a fool."

Every sour word his low voice uttered, coated with disgust and disappointment, felt searing to Sakusa's ears. Truth hurt, or perhaps it was the fact that the two young men's very last time seeing each other was nothing more than a bitter memory to the both of them.

"No need to be sad," said Bokuto, studying the younger man's long face with contempt curving the corner of his pale lips. "You basically hate him, after all."

Sakusa's heart stung. He'd truly always hated Atsumu, and he still did. He hated the way he talked to people, he hated the way he didn't give a shit about everything that didn't concern him personally, he hated that constant egocentric smirk at the hem of his tasty lips. Seeing him beg, suffer and cry was the main reason why he accepted to sleep with him in the first place, although he knew, since the very first time he'd brought his divine lips to the setter's, that betting his cold heart to the cruel game of romance wasn't without any risk.

Playing with feelings had consequences.

Someone had to pay, and the price would be steep.

"You're right," said the younger man, watching his hot breath drawing haze in the air, slightly clenching his injured jaw. "But there's one last thing I need to tell him."

"For God's sake, just shut your fuckin'—"

"Let me see him, Bokuto."

The older man gritted his teeth and let out a long, loud, annoyed sigh. It was stupid, foolish, idiotic, but for a mere second, he thought that he could perhaps give him a last chance.

_No way._

There was no way that man could be any good for Atsumu, and Bokuto had sworn he wouldn't let that monster hurt him one more time. And yet, from the tragic feelings that showed through the desperate tone of his voice, the young man deeply cared for his ex-partner.

And he was undeniably in love.

"Listen, I can't trust you," said Bokuto on a very detached tone. "But if you really want to talk to him, I can't stop you either."

Sakusa's stare went from blank to scalding, furtively detoning in between the flakes of snow. His wounded chin gave a weak nod, but his body didn't seem to respond to his brain anymore. He had already mentally accepted that the man he'd caught feelings for was leaving, but that wasn't the hardest part.

Sakusa had to confess his love, or it'll be too late.


	17. Chapter 17

Sakusa had never made so much effort for someone.

He sighed. Standing in the middle of an old alley, wooden door and yellowish walls covered in dirt and framing the godforsaken building of the students' cheap rooms, he would have given anything to leave this hellhole. He raised a doubtful hand, but finally knocked at the door gently.

"Atsumu," said Sakusa as it opened, revealing his ex-partner almost wincing.

His mere sight had earned a frown from the older man, showily painting anger and aversion on his face. But Sakusa was somehow just glad he didn't shut the door at his face.

"The name's Miya," spat the setter. He stepped back into his empty room and dove his blond head into the stacks of boxes. "I'd like to know what makes ya disturb me when I'm packin' up my stuff, Sakusa."

His tone was sharp, resolved and colder than it had ever been. Sakusa wondered where his usual cocky smile and contemptuous gaze had gone, but realized how beautiful maturity looked on his face.

"Bokuto wasn't lying then," noticed the ravenette, eyes wandering in between the piles of clothes and the young man, "You're leaving for real."

Atsumu turned back to his visitor, dainty lips curled in a faint smile. It was pretty, strangely natural, and for a second it even looked genuine. Sakusa's pupils flickered in between his soft features and his messy surroundings, but his attention seemed only captured by the look on the young man's face. His heart thumped in his chest.

He was mesmerized.

"Y'know, I'm pretty touched you came back to say goodbye," said Atsumu, neatly folding his volleyball jersey.

He smiled, fakely. Awfully bad liar. Sakusa had added this to the list of his countless flaws when they had gotten to know each other more.

"I—"

"It's been a few months I was plannin' to move back home," Atsumu cut him off, "And actually, you were the one who kept me from doin' it. Funny ya didn't even know, right?"

Sakusa's chest felt tight. A silence settled. He took a small step inside, noticing the way Atsumu flinched at the sight of his ex-partner barely approaching him. Sakusa sighed, feeling guilty. That night he had lost control over himself should've been really, really fucking tough for his submissive.

"Atsumu, listen to me." composedly said the younger man, though he could hear his own voice trembling.

"Why should I?" asked the setter, raising his eyebrows and chin, facing Sakusa boldly, a hateful flame igniting his pupils and hiding a faint hint of fear.

"Because I'm sorry about everything." the younger man blurted out.

A cold silence followed his words, freezing the fire of Atsumu's rage. The latter clenched his jaw, opened his mouth, but Sakusa was faster to speak.

"I'm aware that what I've done is unforgivable. But I wanted you to know that I regret every one of my actions," he said, biting his inner lip. "From the time I first kissed you to the one I hurt you. Words won't fix anything, but the least I can do is apologize. I've been a control freak."

Another short silence settled, but this time Atsumu hastened to break it.

"A fuckin' _control freak_ ," he laughed, picking up his volley ball from the floor in order to put it inside his bag. "I think you're also aware that I can't accept your apologies, but anyways, thanks for checking on me. If that'd make ya feel any better, I'm recovering well. Almost no trace of bruises anymore."

Sakusa nodded his head slowly, it was hardly visible. It hurt, it stung, it burned like hell. Every forced breath torn from his heavy lungs felt like the stifling smoke of a cigarette, piercing his heart through his muscular chest. Sakusa hadn't expected any miracle to happen, but he wouldn't have expected a heartbreaking to be so painful either.

Atsumu went to the door of his dorm, arms loaded with three heavy boxes. Sakusa pretended he did not see the purplish stains of blood his own bare hands had painted on the pale skin of the young man, cruel proof of his bestial needs. His stare went dark. He truly deserved what was happening to him.

"Well, guess it's time for us," said Atsumu, looking at his room one last time. "Thank you, Sakusa. For everything. Sex was fun with you."

"Atsumu, wait—"

"Geez," the older man's thin thread of patience finally broke as he sighed, the sensation darkly reminding him of a certain night. "What now?"

"I need to tell you one last thing."

Atsumu loudly gulped down his saliva. He knew, deep down, what he was about to hear. He didn't want to hear it, not from Sakusa's mouth. It would certainly hurt him, he would probably slam the door behind him and throw the keys on the floor, he would probably run away from the town and never turn back. He couldn't think of that, not for a second, not after what happened.

"What is it?" asked Atsumu, voice trembling, palms sweating. He needed to be sure.

"Well," Sakusa sighed, running his fingers through the curls of his hair, "I hate you, Miya."

Atsumu blinked big amber eyes at him. He had expected to hear everything but this. "What?"

"You're a fucking dickhead," Sakusa continued, crossing his arms and letting his gaze wander over Atsumu's distorted features. "You think you're allowed to do whatever you want just because you've got a pretty face, don't you?"

Atsumu dropped his boxes to the ground, slack-jawed, "Wait, you weren't supposed to—"

"Others don't matter to you. It's always just your opinion, your rules, your bratty ass. That's what I call an egocentric bitch."

"Sakusa, I—"

"So believe me, Miya, liking you is a fucking burden."

Sakusa's voice was shaking, surprised by his own pure honesty. It wasn't enough. There were other things that needed to be told. He couldn't stop there, not now that he had gone so far.

"I do like being with you. And I do like sleeping with you, just like I do like hating on every one of your flaws. That's inexplicable, but I'd never want to see you act like someone else, Atsumu."

Sakusa exhaled. The older man glared at him. He expected him to slap his face, ask him if he took him as a fucking fool and finish Bokuto's work by breaking his jaw for good. But Atsumu only smirked, mere curve of a divine face that could've ignited the dusty ray of sun the two men were standing in. His obnoxious-self was back.

"That was cheesy as fuck," he sneered after a few seconds of silence, folding his arms across his chest. "That would've made me almost cry a week ago, y'know ? But what's broken is broken, Sakusa. And there's nothing ya can really do about it. Gotta go now, my brother's waitin'—"

"Fuck this shit, Miya."

Sakusa's legs felt heavy. He was scared. For the very first time. Scared that the young man would run away from him. It felt like he was trying to grab smoke, or lay down clouds. Taking three firm steps, he seized the older man by the collar boldly, almost erotically, and his satiny skin felt like a delightful burn when passion and arrogance subtly bit Atsumu's lips in a rough kiss. Sakusa slid his hands around the setter's tiny waist with delicacy, burning fingertips drawing its graceful curve with more fervour than a renaissance artist.

Atsumu's honey eyes fluttered shut. A vague shiver of danger crossed his nerves, begging him to pull himself off of this lethal embrace. But his legs didn't move. He didn't kiss back either, but did not have the strength to fight back. Petrified and tired, he abandoned himself to the young man and let him do whatever he pleased — conscious to dance with the devil again.

God ! It was unfair. Despite his disgust, hatred and rancor towards Sakusa, Atsumu was desperate to _feel_ his touch, his breath, his heat against his ardent body, and his desires slowly consumed the solid armor he had put up around his heart — leaving him entirely naked and vulnerable to him.

Unfortunately love was stubborn, and risk and audacity felt too good.

And once again, the young man bent down before Sakusa's eagerness.

"Atsumu," a silky voice exhaled against his lips.

The volatil haze of the kiss faded through the warm voice of the younger man, and his ex-partner discovered again, through the curtain of his black eyelashes, that beautiful face he despised, yet adored at the same time — staring at him with incredulity, eyes blazing, cheeks flushed, lips wet and parted to take a recoverful breath.

"Sakusa," Atsumu faintly murmured, looking straight into the young man's pupils, lips quivering in disbelief, eyes gleaming with tears. He wanted that last instant to start again. He felt naive, foolish, it hurt. "Why? Why'd ya—"

"Because I'm in fucking love with you, Atsumu."


	18. Chapter 18

Fallen stars glimmered through his celestial tears.

That couldn't be true. Sakusa was cold, insensitive, and Atsumu had wondered many times if he would have a heart if it wasn't to send blood through his rotten veins and maintain him alive. The younger man had made his feelings quite clear since the very first night, repeating how much he hated his partner and obviously enjoying hurting him.

It didn't feel right.

"Atsumu," Sakusa breathlessly whispered, running his slender fingers through the light blond locks of his hair, "Give me a last chance."

"We can't do this, Sakusa," whispered the older man, clenching his fist on his ex-partner's shirt, close enough to feel his heartbeat. "It still hurts."

"I've made a mistake," responded the ravenette stoically, "But it won't happen again. Let me heal it, Atsumu."

Something bled beneath the armor of the older man's muscular chest, burning him deep to the core of his bones. He let out a loud cry of pain as he rested his head in the crook of Sakusa's neck, soaking his white clean shirt with snot and tears.

"I missed you," the younger man exhaled, drawing circles in his back.

Atsumu sobbed, "I missed ya too."

The young man wanted to believe his promises. Perhaps he was blinded by love. Perhaps he was too naive. But in any case, he felt like he would always lose against Sakusa. They stood here quietly, desireful bodies tightened on the other in a warm embrace of security.

"Sweetheart," murmured the ravenette as he gently lifted Atsumu's chin. The familiar kinky name sent shivers down his spine and a rush of blood to his throbbing member, "I want to do it."

Atsumu's cheeks heated up. Breathless and slack-jawed, he could've drowned in the inky black ocean of his midnight eyes.

_"Raise your head, babe. Let me know how amazing my cock feels inside you."_

Heat seared the backs of his eyes as bitter memories of their last play filled his mind with poison, tormenting his weakened soul mercilessly. He was anxious, his breath was heavy, but suddenly the feathery caress of soft fingertips fluttered over his damp cheek and brushed his venomous thoughts away. Sakusa stared at him, the edges of his pale lips curled in a benign expression.

He was smiling.

It was pretty.

Atsumu held his breath; he was facing an angel. He wanted to touch him, to make sure it wasn't a deceitful trick of the devil. He wanted to find again that forbidden tenderness their lustful games had always given him — it was so close to him, _he_ was so close to him. He opened his mouth hesitantly, closed it again, but finally surrendered. He spoke.

"I wanna do it too."

The two young men couldn't help themselves; their desire was too strong, and the sexual chemistry between them was explosive. Atsumu stood on tiptoe, soft lips brushing against Sakusa's dry ones, each careful breath torn from his lungs burning their pale skin with sourness and passion. The ravenette let his malicious fingers run through his lover's hair freely, slightly tugging at his dyed locks as he shoved his tongue in between his devastating lips.

Sakusa took a step back as the air got heated along with their foolish kiss, taking Atsumu's hips in his hands and guiding him to the coverless bed — gentle and attentive fingers drawing touches of honey on his porcelain skin like he would've manipulated something fragile. His eternal coldness was fading.

"Is that okay?" asked the younger man as he sat his lover on his lap, stripping him bare.

Atsumu gave a weak nod, unbuttoning Sakusa's wet shirt, slowly gaining his past confidence again. He was about to lay himself down the mattress, but a firm grip on his arm prevented him from moving any more.

"Is somethin' wrong?" Atsumu stuttered worryingly, a frown twisting his godlike features.

A wild flame lit up and burned candidly beneath Sakusa's nebulous pupils as he trailed his lips all the way down his lover's neck, collarbone and chest and snatched a pleased sigh from his throat, eyes ravaged with lust. Their youthful hugs and sweet-tasting kisses had gotten both their members throbbing in anticipation of their steamy play, but the time froze when Sakusa finally spoke.

"I want you to ride me, Atsumu."


	19. Chapter 19

Atsumu thought he had misheard at first.

Sakusa would never allow his submissive to touch him, especially when they had sex, and Atsumu couldn't help but get scared from this brutal consent. Though, the older man was turned on, and the mere thought of being on top had his rock-hard manhood dripping with arousal. He smiled, and shoved his lover's broad shoulders onto the mattress with a hint of doubt in his actions.

What if Sakusa didn't like it ?

What if he got mad all of a sudden ?

What if he pushed him away ?

"You're nervous," murmured the ravenette bluntly, noticing the crease between Atsumu's brows. "Relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed," chuckled the older man cockily. "It's just sex."

No. It wasn't. It was different this time, and it probably took every inch of Sakusa to let him dominate. The latter exhaled a sigh and subtly ignored his lies, guiding his tiny waist over his fully hardened cock with a remarkable gentleness. Atsumu bit his lip intensely, getting that singular attention he had always craved from his dominant.

"Just like that," Sakusa murmured, words coated with kindness, tasting sweet in his mouth. "Now sit."

Atsumu did as he was told, like everytime they fucked. But something was gone today, something that used to feel like disgust or reluctance and deeply devoured his abused body during each play. He wanted it tonight. He wanted to please Sakusa, to show him how beautiful sex could be, to tell him how he loved him. He slowly pushed himself onto his lover's pulsating member, taking enough time to feel every inch, every vein, every ridge of his length with a delicate and blissful whimper. Cheeks flushed with peachy pink, ecstatic eyes half-lidded and drool obscenely dripping at the corner of his mouth, he leaned back, raised his knees and moved his hips up and down at a slow pace.

"Omi," Atsumu moaned out, blushing, flustered. "Stop staring..."

"How could I?" asked Sakusa with a warm smile, taking his dainty hips in his rough hands and increasing his speed. "You're gorgeous."

The younger man had so much to tell. He wanted to cry, to laugh, to scream his love and yet he didn't know what to say. Atsumu slammed his butt cheeks against his toned thighs as he fastened his pace, panting, squirming, the shape of his nude figure dancing through Sakusa's shadowed eyes with grace and erotism. He was beautiful, effortlessly. A thin thread of sunlight crept through the windows and painted gold on his exposed chest, drawing bright lines on each of his clenched muscles as he bounced on his lover's cock delightfully.

 _"Fuck,"_ thought the younger man to himself. _"If he keeps being this cute, I'm going to—"_

"A-Atsumu," Sakusa moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. "I'm really fucking close."

The older man bit his lip as the sound of the young man's moans echoed through his mind and hit the walls of his head endlessly. Sakusa never moaned. He never said his partner's name during sex. He was quiet and dark, harshly reminding his supremacy to the both of them. But hearing his pleasured voice tonight filled obscure and empty places in Atsumu's heart with light, awakening something that had always been missing. He wondered why Sakusa didn't moan more often — his voice was sweet, pretty and attractive enough to send chills all the way up his aching cock.

"I'm coming t-too, Omi."

Sakusa lifted his partner slightly above his lap and shoved his cock in and out of him at a godly speed, coating his tight hole with his cream as the latter repainted his own chest white with stains of cum. They panted, trying to catch their breaths as they slowly came down from their orgasms, floating in a steamy daze of ecstasy.

"I love you, Omi." Atsumu breathed out heavily.

He couldn't help the tears that streamed down his sun-kissed face, because crying seemed to be the clearest way to express himself. They laughed and touched each other softly. It felt good. A delusional desire to feel this excitement used to burn them to the core of their bleeding hearts, but through the soothing warmth of their youthful hugs and kisses, it seemed faded.

"I love you more, Atsumu."

Putting an end to their past relationship would be hard. Goodbyes always hurt. They used to be young and carefree, fucking in order to forget the pain of being lonely. But they weren't worried about what would happen next, both knowing that something else was about to emerge from this sad romance — something all new, scary and beautiful.

There were many things the two young men still needed to experience together. From the saddest to the happiest ones. Who knows ? Perhaps they would wear rings of gold around their fingers in ten years. They were twenty-three years old. Life was before them.

For Sakusa and Atsumu, it was only the beginning of everything.  
  


_Untold Feelings,_

_07/17/20_   
_10/22/20_


End file.
